aging pets | The Direction of Intention

Love Is A Funny Thing [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 7, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Not only is his muzzle turning grey but in a surprise color change, the black of his mane is slowly becoming rich auburn. Our Aussie pup never ceases to amaze me. He is a tricolor pup after all.

We are staying close to home these days. He has good days and he has bad days. On a good day you’d swear he was a puppy. On a bad day we fear that the end is near. It’s not unusual for him to have a bad morning and an hour later to be in full vibrant-dog mode. The uncertainty is what keeps us close to home.

True love is a funny thing. It is certain. As his days become more uncertain, our love rises and it is unwavering. Much of what might have seemed important, much of what would have previously pulled us from home or taken space in our hearts and minds, no longer matters. He is the single measure of whether we stay or go. His needs are the unapologetic organizing principle of our days. Improvisation is our only plan.

On humid days he groans when he lays down. We groan when we stand up. “We know how you feel, Dogga!” we chirp in unison.

All his life he’s been a terrible walker. It’s been impossible to teach him to walk with us, to stay by our side. As an Aussie, he believes his job is to protect us or to clear the way for us. He is most comfortable and happy walking ten feet in front of us. We could comfortably take him on trails but walks in the neighborhood have been problematic. I call him “sled dog” since he pulls our arms out of the socket to fulfill his mission. Once he’s ten feet ahead of us, the pulling stops and the protecting begins. Lately, however, he’s become the perfect walker. He and I are growing older together and I’ve been surprised that as more auburn appears in his mane and grey in his muzzle, he wants to be by my side. His job has changed and so has mine. I am now his protector.

It occurred to me that he has cleared our path in more ways than one. He’s shown us the way through some fairly dark passages. Sometimes I think the only reason we made it through is because he was clearing our path, making us aware of our fears even before we knew we were afraid. Dogga can see storms coming. He runs to the bathroom, his safe spot. We’ve become expert at mitigating the gathering clouds in our inner landscape when Dogga heads to the bathroom. “Dogga’s in the bathroom. What’s up?” For two people who believe that they are self-aware, it’s been remarkable to have a dog capable of expanding our self-awareness.

“He’s preparing us,” Kerri said, after his latest bad day. We both began to weep

“I know.” Clearing our path. Guiding us through this passage.

Love is a funny thing.

(Today we celebrate. 13 years ago today we drove onto a farm where a little fur ball puppy stole our hearts. He came home with us. He still holds our hearts captive and we couldn’t be more grateful.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA

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Filed under: Family, Flawed Wednesday, Love, Uncategorized | Tagged: aging, aging pets, artistry, Aussie, Australian shepherd, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dogga, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, love, self awareness, story, studio melange, the melange | Leave a comment »

Time To Linger [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on March 26, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

These days Dogga rarely bursts out of the house to clear the yard of marauding squirrels and trespassing birds. Now he lopes out the backdoor, stands at the end of the deck, finds a good cool spot, lays down and surveys his vast territory. We tease that he is doing what my dad, Columbus, did in his final chapter. He sat in the shade and thought his thoughts.

The thimbleweed along the trail reminds me of cotton. The pods usually release their seeds in the fall but sometimes they hang on through the winter. I wonder if these seeds have missed their moment. They hung on too long. Is this puffy white cluster a failure to launch or are these the seeds of an older plant that no longer needs to toss wild dreams into the future? Perhaps it is time to linger.

Yesterday was a particularly nasty day outside. We binge-watched an entire season of Virgin River. One of the characters, in a moment of crisis, realized that she was trying very hard to hang onto an identity – a version of herself – that was no longer relevant. Life had stripped away a layer of her mask. She needed to let go. I completely understood her revelation. Old dreams need not fly from the pod in search of fertile ground. Sometimes old dreams are just that: old. Letting go makes space for new dreams and new questions. It clears space for Now. There is certainly no end to life’s questions.

We had a rare day of sun. We bagged all of our plans, pulled out our chairs and basked. In truth, our decision to sit in the sun was about Dogga. Rather than leave and explore the world, we chose to sit in the sun with him. His favorite thing to do is hang out with us. There is no end to our questions but there is absolute clarity in our priorities. How long will we have him with us? We don’t really know. What we do know is that there is nothing more important than surveying vast territory with him. We would regret forever if we lost ourselves in the pursuit of old dreams and missed this moment, this time to linger with him.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THIMBLEWEED

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Filed under: DR Thursday, Gratitude, Love | Tagged: aging, aging pets, artistry, clarity, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, dreams, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, pets, priorities, questions, seeds, story, studio melange, the melange, thistleweed, Virgin River | 1 Comment »

Show Us The Way [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on June 7, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

Our Sweet Boy is getting older. A few night’s ago, for the first time, I watched him struggle to stand up; for a moment his back legs refused to cooperate. I felt a hot rush of panic, Kerri caught my eye to acknowledge that she saw it too. And then, in a miracle moment of instant transformation, he caught sight of Boris-the-cat next door and all signs of decrepitude vanished in his hot-dogga-dogga-rush to bark at the window. Crazy Boy was back.

He’s always had two distinct personalities: Crazy Boy in the daylight hours and Sweet Boy after the sunset. Each evening, Crazy Boy herds us to the living room. Once we are settled safely into the couch, the signal that his duties for the day are done, he collapses on the floor between the living room and dining room. When next he raises his head, Crazy Boy is gone. The spirit of Sweet Boy fills his furry being. Our now gentle dog checks in for a head-pet, and nestles in beneath our feet.

It’s the ratio that is pulling at my heart. Once, Crazy Boy dominated the hours of the day, wearing deep circle-paths in the backyard in his exuberant patrol. In the past year, there is a new more-equal balance of Sweet Boy and Crazy Boy hours. His ebullient patrol still wreaks havoc with the backyard flora and fauna, just not so often. He’s become more content to observe his vast territories from the cool of the deck rather than continually clear the yard of marauders. Now he sleeps more of the day away.

When we are away on errands he sleeps in the sunroom by the backdoor but is joyful and bouncing by the time we get the key in the lock. He is the world’s best welcoming committee. Yesterday, we were completely inside the house before he was aware that we were home. “Some watchdog!” we quipped. Once again he struggled to get up. Kerri knelt by his side, ruffling his ears, she said, “Don’t worry, Dogga, our joints hurt, too.”

We’ve joked that Dogga had a tough assignment with us. A hyper sensitive dog with two overly sensitive artists. He’s been part weather vane – I know when Kerri or I are about to storm because Dogga looks at us and heads to the bathroom, his quiet space. We’ve averted many-a-storm because Dogga turns and slinks toward his sanctuary. “It’s okay!” we call after him. Not wanting to upset the dog has taught us how to not upset each other.

“I guess we’re learning how to grow old together,” Kerri said.

And Dogga – as always – is showing us the way.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CRAZY SWEET BOY